Tuesday at Ten
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: [AU] Jake meets his boyfriend's boss, President Weller, for the first time.


_**A/N**: For those that have read _Rearview_, this is the eventual shape the story will take on Kurt's side. Sadly, I just haven't had the motivation to continue that story. But I love dreaming up possibilities in the DC AU—it's my current favorite. :) Some of you may also recognize Kyle from some other fics of mine. I hope you all enjoy this!_

* * *

"Will you stand still, _please_?" Kyle snapped, yanking Jake's hand away from the back of his neck, which Jake had been massaging periodically for the last fifteen minutes. "Your collar's all messed up again. You can't keep fidgeting like this."

"I'm not you, okay?" Jake muttered under his breath, casting an eye out around for eavesdroppers. "I don't see the president of the entire country every damn day. Sorry if I'm a little nervous to meet him."

Kyle kept his smile to himself as he adjusted Jake's tie. "I thought you said you didn't care what he thought of you." Jake sighed, but Kyle continued on: "In fact, if I recall correctly, I remember you saying something along the lines of 'Who cares how I dress or what I say, he won't remember me once I leave the room.'"

"And I stand by that statement," Jake replied. "But that still doesn't mean I'm not nervous. The man _runs the country_. Who am I? Nobody. I don't even know why he's deigning to meet me."

"Because he _cares_," Kyle answered. Jake rolled his eyes at the tone of hero-worship in his boyfriend's voice, but Kyle continued undeterred. "He does, I mean it. He always asks about you. He asks about my family."

"He's being polite," Jake dismissed.

"No, he's being interested."

"What, in you, the quintessential common man?" Jake snorted. "Please. He just wants to practice being friendly with the gays so he looks authentic come June."

"Hey!" Kyle smacked his chest. "Shut it."

"What? I can't criticize the man? I don't give a shit how many pride parades he smiles at, he isn't pushing legislation. What good is he to us?"

"Do _not _bring that up," Kyle hissed. "We have five minutes with him, five minutes to be _pleasant_, and I swear to god, if you are rude you can find somewhere else to sleep tonight."

"Fine," Jake muttered. "At least I'll have principles."

"Jesus Christ," Kyle groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "How many times have we been over this? He's got other priorities. And look at the gains he's made! Guns, for one—the legislation he's passed is _exceptional_, and you should know that—"

"Oh my _god_," Jake hissed, jumping to his feet. "When will that stop being a defense? You'd think the man single-handedly destroyed every gun in the world with the way people talk about him! Guns are still being trafficked, people are still being shot—"

"Including him."

"Amazing," Jake scoffed, pacing away. "God, it truly is _amazing_ how he uses a years-old assassination attempt to explain why he can't fight for civil rights. He'll be a punching bag for the NRA any damn day, but the second _we_ need something, he suddenly needs a break. He's suddenly got to stop and think and craft his position. 'Oh, they've got marriage, what else could they possibly need? They're fine. Next issue. Give me another minority to cater to.'"

Kyle crossed his arms. "You're doing it again."

Jake turned around. "What?"

"Being an asshole."

For a moment they glowered at each other, neither budging, until finally Jake caved. He shut his eyes, and let his tense shoulders fall.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I know this is a big deal for you. I know how much you've been looking forward to today since he invited us. It's just that I… have some issues with his policies."

"I know. And that's fine. But…" Kyle stood up and walked a few feet to meet Jake in the middle of the room. "This is a _social _visit. He's taking time out of his day to talk to us nobodies—" Jake's lip twitched in amusement. "—so please try to be nice, okay? You can rant about him as much as you like once we're on the way home. All you have to do is smile and be nice for five minutes. Deal?"

Jake hesitated for a moment, studying Kyle's face. Finally, he nodded. "Deal."

Kyle reached out for his hand and squeezed it. "Thank you," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss Jake's cheek. Jake closed his eyes for a second—just a second—but he hardly had time to relish the feel of Kyle's lips on his skin when there was a door opening behind them, and a woman's voice calling out that the president of the United States would see them now.

"Calm down," Kyle whispered, moving closer as Jake instinctively stepped back to distance them. "It was a kiss on the cheek. No one cares."

"I care."

"Everyone here knows I have a boyfriend."

"We've been over this. I don't like PDA."

"Yes, you do. You've just internalized too much homophobia to admit it. Which is fine, but you need to acknowledge—"

Jake sighed. "Can we save this lecture for another day, please? We have an appointment that's kind of important."

Kyle grinned, dropping the subject as he led the way into the Oval Office.

President Weller stood up from behind his desk as his secretary announced his guests, smiling as he came over to shake their hands. Jake felt a peculiar sense of déjà vu as the man walked towards them. Time seemed to slow down, and voices seemed garbled to his ears. Jake had seen hundreds of pictures of the man, countless videos, heard a thousand audio clips. He'd seen the president give televised addresses from this very office, but seeing him in person was so different than all of that. Weller looked and sounded exactly the same, and yet there were differences, so subtle Jake might not have noticed them in a more crowded setting. The president was taller in person—and that was something, given Jake's six-foot-plus height—and he looked younger now than he did on TV. His eyes were the same, though: bright and focused and eager to take in all that was in front of him. Reluctantly, Jake had to admit he could understand why Kyle talked about Weller the way he did.

Jake watched the leader of the free world walk up to him, hand outstretched, and all he could think was that he had to give a firm handshake. No one gave the president a limp hand. Nobody.

President Weller laughed as their hands moved up and down, up and down, and slowly Jake's full hearing came back to him.

"Wow," the president was saying, their hands still clasped. "Quite a grip you have there. You sure you don't play baseball?"

"Um—soccer," Jake muttered, rushing to drop the man's hand before he did something drastic like accidentally break it. "Sorry about that, sir. I'm a little nervous. It's good to meet you."

"You as well." He smiled serenely as he gestured towards the couches. "I've heard a lot about you from Kyle."

"I hope he hasn't bored you too much," Jake replied as they took their seats: him and Kyle on one couch, the president opposite them, a bowl of oranges on the table between them. He wondered if the president actually ate them. Or were they just swapped out every couple days for fresh ones? "He's been known to talk people's ears off."

"Not at all. In fact, I'm going to miss his stories once he leaves us. Though I imagine he'll have even more once he gets to Harvard."

"I sure hope so," Jake replied. "I'm sick of his old ones."

"Hey!" Kyle protested in mock outrage, unable to hide a grin. He was loving ths. "My stories are good and you know it."

"Maybe the first time you hear them," Jake conceded.

"What about you?" the president asked, looking to Jake. "Are your stories good a second time around?"

"I like to think so," Jake allowed, wondering where exactly this conversation was going. He paused, smiling to himself at the idea of telling any one of those evergreen stories to the president. "Though unfortunately, I don't think too many are appropriate for this setting—my brother and I got into a lot of questionable shenanigans when we were kids."

"And adults," Kyle added with a fake cough.

"Sounds like my youngest," President Weller commented. "I think she lives just to give her mother and I extra headaches. And I know she's still a kid, but somehow I can't see her changing her tune with age."

Despite himself, Jake grinned at the peek behind the curtain. "Really? Norah always seems well-behaved from what I've seen."

"Oh, we bribe her for official events," President Weller replied, and though Jake laughed, he couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth there. He almost wished Kyle's time at the White House wasn't coming to an end, simply so he could settle a few rumors. He'd never understand how the people who worked here didn't sell all their stories to the tabloids the first chance they got, NDAs be damned.

"What about your eldest?" Jake asked. "Surely Madeline doesn't need to be bribed to act accordingly. I've never seen a teenager with more poise."

The president smiled, but before he could answer, the doors at either edge of the office burst open, and besuited men and women flooded into the room, guns drawn, all shouting for the president as they surrounded him on every side. Jake and Kyle instinctively reached for each other, huddling together on the couch, both holding up the one free hand they had to indicate their innocence as much as their surrender. Jake couldn't stop staring at the guns in his face; he had never seen so many in his life, not even when he'd visited his brother at the Air Force base where he was stationed.

Above the fray, Jake could hear the president's voice cutting through the noise, demanding to know where his wife was, where his children where, and what in the hell was going on. Before anyone could answer him, two of the nearest Secret Service agents were yanking Jake and Kyle to their feet, leading them to separate corners of the room to be patted down and interrogated. As they shoved off Jake's jacket, dug into his pockets, and felt every inch of him for a weapon, he heard one of the agents answer her boss's questions.

"There's been an incident, sir," she said shortly, her eyes casting around for further threats. "Agents are with the First Lady and the girls now. There was evidence of an incendiary device discovered—"

"That's a bomb," Jake whispered, the rest of the agent's report falling away as he turned instinctively to Kyle. He wanted to run to him, but there were still hands holding him in place, double- and triple-checking that he wasn't a threat. "Incendiary—that's—that—that means a bomb. Holy shit. Holy shit, are we going to die?"

No one answered him, but it hardly mattered. His mind was already spiraling to the worst outcome, and he could feel the adrenaline causing his blood to rush hard and loud through his system. He saw the agents' mouths moving, he knew the president was yelling, and he could hear Kyle calling out to him, but he couldn't decipher a single word.

All he could think of was the Lion's Share Pub. It's where he'd been when he'd heard the news, all those years ago. He still remembered precisely where he'd been sitting: a stool at the edge of the bar, not facing any of the TVs. He hadn't even realized there was a breaking news report until everyone around him had gone silent, and all that could be heard was the volume rapidly being turned up, just in time to hear a news anchor report that there was some kind of terrorist attack happening at Reagan Airport.

He'd expected to see burning planes—he'd had the image of the Twin Towers in his mind—but it was worse, somehow, seeing destruction on such a small scale at the airport entrance, so up-close and personal. The body count was lower, but the visuals were more graphic than he'd expected. There was blood everywhere; bodies were slumped inside and outside of the building, either wounded or dead; windows were shattered and cars were wrecked from the panic of people trying to escape the gunfire. They didn't play the live footage from the attack on the national news, but everyone saw it online anyway. Jake would never forget watching that. Thanks to all the pinned-down bystanders and their cell phones, he'd seen Weller's attack from nearly every angle. The way the bullets ripped through him—one after another after another. The way his body jerked back again and again and again. They way he didn't get up, didn't move. Couldn't. Nearly the entire nation had watched as Senator Kurt Weller was shot dead on the sidewalk in the nation's capital.

But he hadn't died. So many others had—other senators, staffers, bodyguards, civilians—but _he _had lived. Jake would never forget hearing that. So many had died and yet against all odds, in spite of all those bullets ripping through his body, he'd _lived_. Somehow.

And now there was a bomb in his house.

"Kyle, Jacob, come here."

The sound of the president saying his full name jerked Jake out of his memory. He looked over, but he couldn't see anything except the mass of Secret Service agents in front of him. The president was hidden somewhere among them, cocooned behind the shields they made of their bodies to protect him.

"Sir," one of the agents addressed him. "Protocol is that we secure you first before—"

"They're not a threat, and I said they'd come with me," the president interrupted, and just like that, Jake and Kyle were rushed over and subsumed into the moving organism of people willing to die for the man standing beside them.

Even at Jake's height, it was hard to see where they were going as they moved. All Jake knew was that one minute they were in the Oval Office, and the next they were in some kind of elevator, sinking into the ground. They had shed most of the president's guard; only four agents accompanied them down to whichever lower level they stepped off at. They had bigger guns now, and Jake could see the body armor they wore beneath their suits. He thought briefly about asking for some of his own, but in their little party, he knew he was the least deserving. They passed through one locked and armored door, and then another. Jake watched as the agents left to stand sentinel outside each one. He wondered how they did that—just stood there and waited for death. Calm. Cool. No questions, no prayers, no hesitation.

Jake turned away from them, unable to watch any longer. He stared around at the room they'd been left in, surprised to find that it actually was a _room_, and not a spare concrete bunker. There was wall paneling, and carpeting, and a table and chairs. There were shelves of food, a few cots folded up in the corner, and even a toilet hidden in a small alcove. Jake hoped they wouldn't be here long enough to use it. He didn't like to imagine himself peeing in front of the president, or vice versa.

"Thank you," Kyle called hoarsely, after the enormous armored door had been locked shut behind them. "You didn't have to bring us with you. I know it must break some kind of—"

"I wasn't going to leave you up there," President Weller interrupted. "Especially you," he added, pointing at Jake. "The one day you visit the White House you get attacked? No, I don't think so."

Jake managed a tight smile, but he couldn't marshal much feeling behind it. He kept looking to the ceiling, as if he could sense what was happening who knew how many floors above. Had more bombs gone off? Could there be people storming the building? He wondered how long it would take them to get down here. How many Secret Service agents would they have to kill? Surely not just anybody could operate that elevator they'd gone on, let alone pass through the multiple guarded checkpoints between there and here. Then again, he'd used to think airports were safe.

Mind churning away, he nearly jumped when he felt Kyle's hand on his elbow. His boyfriend sent a meaningful glance towards the table, where the president sat alone, systematically twisting his wedding band around his finger. He was turning it so roughly Jake could see his skin turning red and white under the pressure.

The last thing Jake wanted to do was sit next to the man, but Kyle gave him a shove, and he figured now wasn't the time to protest. It wasn't like there was anywhere else to go, anyway. They took seats across from the president, leaving a fourth chair open to his right. Jake and Kyle both watched him as he stared at that chair, stared into nothingness.

"They said agents are with the First Lady and your daughters," Kyle pointed out after the silence had dragged on for too long. "I'm sure if something was wrong, they'd let you know."

Slowly, without looking up, the president shook his head. "No. I am their priority. If there are injuries, or casualties, they will handle the situation until they're certain the threat is eliminated. If anything happens, I will hear about it afterwards, once they deem it safe enough for me to be above ground again."

Jake swallowed, absorbing this. He couldn't imagine being imprisoned, helpless, while the people he loved were out there somewhere, possibly being hurt. Possibly being killed. He gripped the armrest of the chair so he wouldn't reach for Kyle's hand. There was no reason to remind the president just how alone he was here.

"Is it…" Jake cleared his throat. "Do you think it's possible it was a false alarm?"

Kyle shot him a look, but he ignored it. The president was staring at him now; his hands stilled for a second.

"It could be, right?" Jake pressed. "I mean…" He searched for something positive to say. "Surely things like this happen all the time."

There was silence for a moment, and then the president laughed, making both Jake and Kyle jump.

"No," he said, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his bearded chin. "No, things like this do _not _happen all the time. They do drills, sure, but those are scheduled. And they do not bring me down here for those; they know I don't have time to waste."

Jake swallowed, absorbing this. _So it's real_. He didn't say the words out loud, but when he glanced at Kyle, he saw they were thinking the same thing. When he looked back at the president, Jake saw he was back to twisting his wedding ring. Jake tried to think of something soothing to say, but nothing came to mind. He'd never been in a situation like this before. He had no idea how to tell someone not to worry about their family when their family could be in mortal danger. Twist, twist, twist. As Jake watched the ring turn round and round on the president's finger, he found himself wondering if the First Lady had the same nervous tic.

"Do you know where they are right now?" Jake heard himself ask. He didn't know why he was asking—he just knew that the president obviously wasn't going to stop thinking about his family, and maybe if he talked about them it would distract his head from the worst-case scenarios a bit. Or maybe he was just making things worse.

"Jake," Kyle warned.

"It's fine," the president told Kyle. "Maddie and Norah are at school," he rattled off. "It's full of diplomats' kids and well protected; they'll be locked down there until the threat lifts here. Anna's downtown, at an event at George Washington." He paused. "She's the one I worry about most," the president whispered, still staring at that empty chair, still twisting his wedding ring. There was a slight tremor in his voice, and all at once Jake felt a rush of hot, sickening shame—for himself, and for every uncharitable thought he'd ever had about that woman. How many times had he mocked her, or let other people mock her in his presence, just because she happened to be in a relationship with the most powerful person on the planet? She'd been the leading star of a real-life soap opera for so long that he'd never quite pictured her as a real person.

"There are a lot of people out there who want me dead," the president continued. He smiled briefly. "I'm sure that won't come as a surprise to anyone these days. But I'm hard to get at—or I was. She's easy—easier than me, easier than the girls. She moves with a smaller guard, and she's with the public more." He shook his head. "It drives me crazy. I know her role is important to her, I know she wants to be more than a figurehead, but it scares me."

_I'm sure she'll be okay_. Jake tried to say the words, but they died somewhere deep in his twisting gut. How do you tell a man who survived an assassination attempt that it wouldn't happen again? Of course it was going to happen again.

The president buried his face in his hands with a groan, and Jake bit his tongue so he wouldn't say anything else naively comforting.

"I can't talk about Anna anymore," the president said when he surfaced a moment later. "Can we please talk about something else? Anything else. How about—" He looked between Jake and Kyle as if noticing them for the first time. "Tell me how you guys met."

"Oh…" Kyle shot an anxious glance at Jake. "I don't know about that, sir."

"What?" He looked between the two of them. "Was it a one-night stand or something? Did you meet on Grindr? I don't care. Trust me, you can't scandalize me."

"It's not _scandalous_," Jake felt the need to say, each word fighting to get out. His mind flashed on the immediate retort—_It's not like one of us worked for the other._—but he managed to swallow it down.

"Okay, what was it, then?"

Jake bit his cheek, swearing at himself for having spoken. He should've just let Kyle handle it. But now he was in a corner.

"Forget about it, nevermind," the president dismissed, just as Jake began, "We met at school."

For a moment, everyone froze, and then Jake kept talking. He had the president's full attention now, and it he knew it was best to draw out this story as long as he could. Anything to keep him from thinking of what was happening on the surface.

"We were in high school," Jake explained. "Sophomore year. Same grade, but we didn't have any classes together, didn't know each other—"

"Oh, I knew him," Kyle interrupted knowingly.

Jake batted him away. "All right, that's not the _story_."

"It's _my _story."

"Will you be quiet? I'm in the middle of it."

The president laughed, waving a hand between them. "High school. Makes sense. You two bicker like an old married couple."

"Uh-oh," Kyle grinned, watching Jake's face flash hot at the mention. Kyle leaned across the table towards the president and added in a stage-whisper, "Don't say the m-word around him. He gets very skittish."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" Jake snapped. "And let me tell the story. All right?"

"All right, all right," Kyle surrendered, settling back in his chair.

"Anyway. Like I was saying, we met in high school. I knew, uh, that I was different. You know." He could feel the president watching him closely, and despite how he'd argued for storytelling rights, he felt nervous now, talking about this in front of a man like Weller. He reminded Jake of his dad in a way, and it hurt to think about how he'd never told this story to his father. His father had never been interested. "I didn't really want to put a name to it, at that time. I think I probably knew I was gay, but it's hard to face that when you're fifteen and you're in high school and your biggest hobbies are soccer and swimming and football. Gay kids like theater, right? They don't play sports." He snorted, shaking his head at the memory of himself. "I remember testing myself: I'd secretly listen to Broadway albums, and I told myself if I liked them, then I really was gay. That was my bright-line test. Of course I only picked the old ones. I didn't listen to anything recent, or popular; I told myself real gays only liked the classics."

"So you rigged the test," President Weller concluded.

"One could put it that way," Jake admitted with a smile. "Anyway, despite not liking Broadway classics, I was still struggling with all this crap, obviously not talking to my parents or my siblings or my friends about it, and then I noticed signs in the halls for GSA meetings. Usually I had practice every day after school, but as it turned out, GSA didn't hold their meetings until after my practice was over."

"We had to accommodate the mock debate team's schedule," Kyle explained. "Otherwise our membership would've taken a hit. So we met at five instead of four."

Jake caught his eye. "You sure you weren't accommodating _my_ schedule?"

Kyle held up his right hand. "I plead the fifth, counselor."

"So you went to the meeting? Was it love at first sight?"

"Oh, please, I'd been in love with him for six months," Kyle replied.

Jake snorted. "No," he answered, "no, I didn't go to the meeting."

"He listened outside the door like a creep."

"You said it was romantic!"

"Would've been romantic if you'd kissed me afterwards," Kyle grumbled.

"I needed a _friend_," Jake explained with a smile. "A friend I could talk things out with, maybe actually come out to… Got a bit more than I bargained for, obviously."

"Was it… difficult at school?" the president asked carefully. "When you came out? Were the kids hard on you?"

"Kyle can probably speak to this better than I can," Jake answered delicately. "By the time I came out, I was already halfway through high school; he'd been out the whole time. But I only had two years and, well… People tended to like me in high school. Even if they were shocked that I didn't like girls, mostly it was dirty looks and drive-by insults. There were a couple incidents at practice, but I handled them."

"What he's trying to so humbly say," Kyle translated, "is that he was big, he was popular, and he played a different sport every season. You couldn't beat him up without getting beat up yourself."

"But it did happen?" President Weller pressed. "Kids attacked you?"

"It was nothing," Jake began to say. He didn't like how accurate the word _attacked _was.

"It's not _nothing_," the president interrupted sharply, and Jake stared, surprised by his emotion. "It's not. We're way past the point that kids should have to go through this shit at school, of all places."

"Well," Kyle broke the ice—Jake was still reeling from hearing the president of the country swear— "that's never stopped anybody, has it? Just because something _shouldn't_ be happening doesn't mean it isn't happening."

The president sighed, looking away. Jake could see he was still angry, still wanted to argue, but all he said in the end was, "I suppose you're right."

They fell silent for a little while after that. Jake kept an ear out, trying to listen to whether or not anything was happening outside, but it was impossible to tell. There was no clock in this room, and both his and Kyle's phones had been confiscated the moment they'd walked into the White House. He hoped time was just moving slowly. He didn't like to think about what it meant to be kept down here minute after minute after minute.

"What did your parents say?" the president wondered after a while, and Jake turned from where he'd been pacing the room to look over. "When you came out, how did they react?"

The president wasn't looking at them—he was back to worrying his wedding ring—and Jake stared at him in disbelief. It was one thing to talk about how he'd met his boyfriend; it was an entirely other thing to discuss coming out to his parents. Didn't Weller know that some kids got kicked out on the street for that? Some were scarred for life.

But before Jake could steel himself to say any of that, Kyle opened his mouth and started talking. Just jumped in and saved him, like always.

"My parents basically said, 'Great, is that it?' They knew before I did, of course. They'd just been waiting for me to get the formality out of the way. Of course I was annoyed they knew it all before me, but it was nice that they gave me time to get there by myself. Even better that they were so ready for it all. They didn't even blink. Just hugged me and told me they loved me and said dinner would be ready soon."

"That's nice," the president whispered, almost as if to himself. His voice was very quiet, eyes distant, and Jake watched him, wondering if he had even really heard what Kyle had said. The man seemed so far away, so worried about his family's well-being, and with their lives potentially at stake, Jake couldn't blame him for not finding distraction in their comparatively meaningless emotional dramas. Jake was about to even offer up his, if only as a further distraction, when the president whispered something else.

"I wish Maddie had had that."

It was so quiet, Jake wasn't even sure he'd heard it right. But when Jake looked to Kyle, he saw the same slack-jawed look on his face, the same wide eyes.

The world seemed to stand still for one long moment.

And then very slowly, the president tented his hands above his face, drawing them from his forehead down to his chin. "I'm sure you can understand," he began quietly, "how a person under stress might accidentally say something out loud that they don't want shared with—"

"Of course, sir," Kyle replied at once. "We won't say a word."

"Never," Jake added quickly, his mind already spinning.

He'd never much paid attention to the First Family. To him, they were ornamentation to what _really _mattered about the presidency: the politics of the man sitting behind the desk. His ability to champion the right legislation, and most importantly, to actually get it passed, was what truly mattered. People the world over gossiped about his family life, but Jake didn't care. He'd never cared, apart from the usual jokes here and there.

But suddenly he cared a whole lot about the president's eldest adopted daughter.

Jake ran through his memory, trying to think of any appearance of hers he'd seen, of tabloid photos and newspaper headlines, trying to put together the pieces to understand how she was apparently so much like him. But it was impossible. Madeline Weller—he knew nothing about her.

Except now he knew one thing that every single reporter in the world would kill to know.

"I found out by mistake." Jake looked up at the president's voice, his mind snapping back to the present. "I wasn't supposed to know. I just… walked in on her last week. With a friend. A girl," he added, as if that stipulation was now necessary. Even he sounded awed by the idea. "I didn't even know they were…" He shook his head. "I just walked right in! I thought they were doing homework, like they'd done a hundred times. I was going to ask what they wanted for dinner, like I'd done a hundred times. And instead…" He sighed, closing his eyes. "I fucked up."

If Jake hadn't seen all those guns in his face upstairs, if he hadn't seen how genuinely scared the president was for his family, he would've thought the incident this morning had just been a ruse in order to trap two gays in a room to talk the president through his daughter's coming out. He glanced to Kyle who, for once, seemed to have no idea what to say.

"Well." Jake cleared his throat awkwardly. He did not expect to have this sort of conversation when he'd arrived at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue this morning. "However it went, I'm sure you handled it as well as could be expected, sir."

"Doesn't change the fact that she never got a chance to tell me herself. I took that away from her."

"It's not like you _meant _to."

"I still did anyway. She'd never told _anyone_. Even the girl she was with, it was the first time they'd ever—you know… done anything together. One second she's having a… a _private_ moment, and the next I appear out of nowhere like some kind of leering creep." He groaned, burying his head in his hands. "And now she has to associate her first kiss with her stepdad."

Without meaning to, Jake flinched.

"Yeah, see? I've fucked up her whole experience."

"It doesn't sound like it was your fault, sir."

The president shook his head, hardly hearing him. "I didn't give her a choice. She'll never get to tell me how she wants to tell me. She made me promise not to tell Anna—and I haven't said a single word to my wife—but I have no idea how to deal with this without her. I feel like everything I say, or _try _to say, to Maddie is wrong."

"I think parents always feel that way," Kyle put in, finally having found his voice. Jake could practically feel Kyle's excitement; this was just the sort of thing to make him love Weller even more. "Mine were accepting and all, but things were still awkward sometimes. That's just the way of parents. And coming out is always strange, no matter how many times you do it. I'm sure she'll get around to telling her mom. She just needs to find the words."

"Do you think she's scared?"

"Maybe," Kyle allowed, taking care focus on his boss, and not look at his boyfriend. "It can be scary telling your parents that you're different than—"

"No, I don't mean her mom. I know Anna will take it well; she isn't the problem. I mean…" The president twisted his hands together, and as the silence dragged on, Jake looked over. He was startled to see tears in the president's eyes. "I don't want her to get beat up at school," his whispered hoarsely.

"I… don't really think you need to worry about that, sir," Kyle told him haltingly. "She has agents with her at all times, doesn't she? And even if she doesn't, well… Girls are less likely to get physical than boys are. Girls will say mean things, but that's about it."

"Sometimes just saying mean things is enough," the president replied. "You should've seen—well, I'm sure you _did _see—the things the press wrote about Anna when we went public. And even before that, with my ex-wife—I mean, God, it was half the reason we divorced. But with Anna… It was horrible, even by tabloid standards. I really worried for her safety, those first couple years. I couldn't be seen to favor her in any way, so protection was out of the question. I kept waiting for it to escalate. From the way the press talked about her, the way the public reacted, questioning my ethics, our sanity, bringing Anna's parenting ability into it, calling her a slut..."

Kyle and Jake flinched at how casually the word came out of the president's mouth.

He smiled briefly at them, serious as ever. "Oh, yes. And that was the kindest word many had for her, for a long time." He shook his head. "I told her not to look online; I told her it was a Pandora's box." He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "In retrospect, I suppose it was wrong to warn her—just made her more curious. But what was I supposed to do? Let her stumble on all that hate by accident, unprepared? I couldn't do that to her.

"I've been in politics so long I know how to let those sorts of insults roll off me. But her? One day she's a normal person, who has a mostly normal job. The next, she's being Googled by every person on earth and has new articles written about her every forty minutes. I know it must've seemed ridiculous at the time, like some big soap opera or hyper-real reality show, but it was our life. It still is. And the tabloids, the internet, they all profit off destroying women. Anna's survived so far, but what in the hell are they going to do to Maddie? She's _fifteen, _for god's sake. And the entire world is watching her." He sighed, sinking into his chair. "I love those girls and I know they love me, but sometimes I can't avoid the fact that I've ruined their lives."

There wasn't a good response to any of that, and so Jake and Kyle both kept quiet, willing the moment to pass. After a few seconds, the president shook his head, pushing himself to his feet.

"I apologize. You two don't need to be subjected to all my personal theatrics."

"No, it's fine," Jake hurried to excuse, while Kyle belabored the point: "Maybe your wife could help Maddie. With the pressure from the press. If they ever find out, that is."

"Oh, they're sure to find out," the president replied. "One thing thing job has taught me: all your secrets eventually come out."

"Well, if they do, it won't be from us."

"No?" The president glanced between them. Jake knew which of them he didn't fully trust. He caught the president's eye and held it.

"With all due respect, we're gay, sir. We know how to keep a secret like our lives depend on it."

That seemed to be enough. The president nodded, and they lapsed back into silence. Jake chanced a glance at Kyle, and for a second while the president's back was turned, Kyle mouthed _Holy shit!_ at him. Jake grinned back. This would be another one of those stories he'd never be to tell out loud, but at least this one felt worthy of the secrecy.

Jake didn't know how many more minutes passed, but eventually the door to their bunker was unlocked, and the two agents who had guarded them stepped inside. Everyone stood up at once.

"All clear, sir," the agent said, waving them out.

"Anna?" The president was already through the door, nearly running. "The girls?"

"They're fine, sir. Upstairs waiting for you."

"They should be back at school," he muttered, but everyone who heard knew he didn't mean it. Nobody spoke as the elevator rose smoothly to the surface, but they could all feel his excitement. At his side, Jake felt Kyle take his hand. When the elevator doors opened, he didn't shake it off.

"Dad!"

The doors had barely opened by the time two flashes of red sprinted across the room and slammed into the president, hugging him tight. For a second, he staggered back against their strength, but he kept his footing and hung onto them, whispering that he was okay, that everything was fine, that he was so happy to see them.

Jake watched them as he and Kyle edged off the side of the elevator, remembering that day at the pub, and all that footage from Reagan Airport. It was scarred into his memory and he had never even met Weller before today. He couldn't imagine what it was like for these girls, who had to grow up knowing there were people out there who hated their father enough to gun him down on the street, and when that failed, to know that they were still trying, over a decade later, to finish the job.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw another rush of movement—it was the First Lady, following after her daughters. Jake could see she'd been crying, and as she embraced her husband, Jake could hear her whisper: "Swear you're okay?"

The president's response came out muffled against her neck: "Shit."

For a half-second it was silent, and then the girls started laughing, their little shoulders shaking as they stood in between their parents, and for a moment as Jake watched, they could be any family: one with silly inside jokes and genuine love for each other.

"You're dumb," the First Lady whispered, and then she kissed her husband, and Jake looked away, knowing he should've been looking away the whole time. This was the most private of moments, and yet he hadn't been able to give them that courtesy. He'd always had trouble ignoring happy families. They drew him in, and drew him out of himself, like the sun on a cloudy day. He always sought their warmth. Kyle's hand squeezing his reminded him that, while he sometimes forgot, he had his happy family right beside him.

It took a few minutes for the Wellers to break apart. When they did, one of the agents stepped forward to quietly mention that he needed to go over the details of the incident with the president, who nodded. He was still holding onto his wife's hand.

"Anna and I will come look. In the meantime—" He glanced around the room, finally seeming to remember he had civilians with him. "Can you have someone drive my guests home? They were only scheduled for a short meeting, and I'm sure they've had enough of this place. And," he added meaningfully, gesturing to the girls, "please have Harry take the girls back to school."

"_Da-ad!_" Their high-pitched cries of indignation made Jake flinch. It had been a long time since he'd been around teenagers. The orange one of them had been peeling dropped to the ground in furious disbelief.

"Kurt," Anna scolded sharply.

"What? They have exams; they told me so at breakfast. Girls, get your bags."

"_Kurt_."

"What?"

"Honey. Today was very stressful. They can take their exams tomorrow."

"We've been over this. We agreed they don't get special treatment. It sets a bad standard. Besides, they have classwork—"

"They can do their classwork _here_. They don't need to go back to school." She leaned closer to him, closing her other hand on top of his. "Let them work here, with you. I will too. We can all have the day together. Just today, and then we can go back to normal."

A smile warmed his serious face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I have some notes from some speaking engagements to go over anyway. I assume your meetings this afternoon have been rescheduled?"

He sighed. "God, I hope so."

"Why do _you _get to reschedule meetings and _we_ don't get to reschedule schoolwork?" one of the girls piped up from across the room. Jake glanced over and noticed that the one who spoke had her hands on her hips, and looked a little younger than her sister. Jake smiled to himself, remembering the president's comment earlier, about having to bribe Norah to behave. Maybe it hadn't been a joke after all.

"Because I'm important," the president told his daughter. "And you're nobody, kid. So watch it, or I'll have your teachers send me copies of your exams and you can take them right now. I'll have them graded in front of you and everything."

She scrunched her nose up at him, sticking out her tongue, but didn't dare to push her luck.

"Come on," Anna called, smiling at her daughters as she pulled her husband towards the exit. "Let's get this over with."

"Fine, fine," the president sighed, but he took only one step towards the exit before he turned around. "Oh, Maddie," he called, "I almost forgot—I want to introduce you to my guests before they head home."

The older girl perked up, her eyes moving over to Jake and Kyle for the first time. Jake watched her face as her eyes zeroed in on their hands, still laced together. He could see the color starting to rise in her cheeks when her eyes flew up to each of theirs and then down to her shoes. Jake's heart ached for the girl, and he felt a flash of betrayal on her part—he couldn't understand how the president could be so tone-deaf, especially after all they'd discussed this morning.

"I'm sure you've seen Kyle Rosen around, but I don't know if you've met. You've got something important in common."

"Oh? It's lovely to meet you," Madeline Weller whispered woodenly, offering a firm shake but keeping her eyes resolutely on the ground. Jake's mind whirled, trying to think of some way to cut this all off at the pass, but the president was already continuing on.

"Kyle's leaving us here, but he's moving on to somewhere _much _more prestigious—he's going up to Harvard next month."

Madeline Weller's head jerked up immediately, all trace of embarrassment gone as she stared at him, wide-eyed with reverence. "Harvard?" she whispered. "Really? Seriously? _Harvard_?"

"Yeah." Kyle smiled. "Why, do you want to go?"

"Do I want to _go_?" she yelled.

"Wow, okay," Kyle laughed. "I'll take that as a yes. What are you thinking of studying? Do you know yet?"

With that brief opening, Maddie Weller launched into a near-rant about everything she loved about, wanted from, and hoped for when it came to Harvard. She spoke so fast Jake started to get dizzy. He felt a steady hand on his shoulder and turned to find the president at his side.

"Thank you both," Weller murmured, "for all your advice today. I appreciate it more than you can imagine."

"Of course, sir. Happy to help."

The president paused a moment, watching as Maddie and Kyle talked. Jake's boyfriend had finally managed to get a word in, and now Maddie was hanging on his every sentence. "I know it's not a one-to-one comparison," the president began quietly, "and you obviously have no obligation here, but… Would it be all right if I gave Maddie your contact information? Just in case she ever wants to talk to adults who have been where she's been. She's got me and Anna, and she's got girls her age, but… She might want to know what the light at the end of the tunnel looks like. Only if you're open to it, of course."

"I'd love that," Jake answered at once. He had been in no hurry to share his life story with Weller this morning, but talking with the president's daughter would be an entirely different matter. He'd tell her anything she wanted to know, in the hopes that her journey through life would be easier than his.

"Thank you again," the president said, and held out his hand once more. Jake shook it, taking care not to hold on too long again.

"I'm sorry about what happened today," Jake told him. "But I'm glad I got some time to talk with you, and I'm relieved that you and your family are safe. And that you'll be able to spend some time together together today."

The president smiled, glancing at his wife. "What can I say? It's no secret I get all my good ideas from Anna."

"Maybe Maddie will have a good idea today too," Jake replied. He'd noticed the way the teenager had been glancing between the two of them, him and Kyle, and he knew she was wondering. Wondering had led him to finally speaking out, all those years ago. Maybe Maddie would do the same today.

"You think?" The president smiled at the thought, looking to his eldest. "I'd like that," he whispered. "And Anna would too. We could use a happy end to this day."

"Stranger things have been known to happen."

* * *

_**A/N**: Thank you for reading! Tell me your thoughts. :)_


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